Three Times Prim Didn't Stand Up For Herself
by etteloc
Summary: And the one time she did. Growing up means learning how to speak for yourself. Part 2: Trust Your Heart. It's near the end of the Third Quarter Quell and the Tributes aren't the only ones keeping secrets. Features: Prim, Rory, Mrs. Everdeen, Mr. Mellark, and the Mellark brothers
1. Trust Your Instincts

_I'm in love with this style of story. This one takes place shortly after Gale's whipping in Catching Fire. There will be more. _

01

Trust Your Instincts

* * *

When her mother entered her "zone", as Katniss called it, she could get a little cantankerous. The knowledge in her head was so instinctual that sometimes it was hard for her to articulate exactly what she needed.

Lucky for Prim, she had years of memorizing her mother's body language and could translate most of her furrowed brows and understand that when her mother looked off in the distance towards nothing, it wasn't an _absence _of thinking, it was an over-abundance of it. Prim could take one look at her faraway look and mold it into something tangible.

The winter had become unbearable. After Gale's whipping, there seemed to be no end to the maladies and illness plaguing District 12. Their supplies, save for snow, dwindled, and it seemed that a train would never come in time. It was the end of a particularly grueling Friday: three cases of frostbite, two families with mumps, a miscarriage, and the ever-present starving.

Katniss had assisted the last family back to their shack in the Seam, a frail mother and a bone-thin father with two wisps for children. Her restlessness to do something useful was easily converted into hauling back a meager supply of heating oil and provisions for the desperate family. They had tried to resist the donation, pride being worth more than health in the minds of many, but Mrs. Everdeen was blunt. "You won't survive the week if you don't."

Before she had gone out the door, Prim stared quietly as Katniss scowled at the bag of bread Peeta had left on the counter earlier that morning. She grabbed it gruffly and stuck it in the sack of dried meat and grain that they were sending along to the family. Some days Katniss devoured the contents – namely the cheese buns – but lately she had taken to forcing Hazelle to take the rest after Prim and her mother had their fill.

"It gets caught in my throat," Katniss explained when Prim pressed her for her sudden change of heart. "Besides, I feel better when I eat less of it. I don't think it agrees with me."

_So tell him to stop,_ Prim thinks. But she doesn't say it out loud.

She doesn't know quite where to sit with her sister's love life any more than Katniss does. She overheard Haymitch talking to her mother one night a few weeks ago, after they returned from the Victory Tour. She never realized Haymitch could talk so quietly. He explain about the arrangement, the engagement, the trouble they were in. About President Snow's threats and how Gale had kissed Katniss in the woods and somehow, they'd been seen.

Prim's heart beat loudly as she leaned up against the door, straining to hear more. Katniss hadn't said a word about any of it to them and her mother's sigh explained part of it. "Sixteen years old and she thinks she's got the world figured out. I wish she'd quit pretending she's the only one who can understand the situation they put her in."

Haymitch's laugh was more of an angry exhale. "And people wonder why I didn't have kids."

So Katniss dealt with her emotions in less than healthy ways and her mother didn't bother to pass the story on to Prim, who dealt with Katniss and Peeta and Gale more often than any of them combined. It made Prim angry to be left out. Sixteen was old enough to be in a sham engagement, but she was still too young to know the details at thirteen? Rory Hawthorne had the same complaint concerning his own brother and mother, whose lips sealed the moment he entered the room.

"Do they think we're stupid?" he would rail when they were together outside the school, arms waving in frustration. Prim's heart beat a little more rapidly there, too, as she began to understand a little more of what Katniss was going through when she looked at Gale and couldn't have him.

She pressed the hypothetical situation to her mother, whose forehead knit with worry. "Thirteen is far too young to have a boyfriend. Why not become good friends first?"

_Because that's where Katniss and Gale got in trouble, _Prim wants to explain. And those are shoes she'd rather not be in.

They must have thought they were stupid, otherwise Prim was sure they wouldn't speak to them the way they did. Always half the story and none of the details. That Friday night, as soon as Katniss left with the starving family it seemed like Gale showed up. His back was recovering nicely, to the point where he could almost move around without pain and in full mobility, but a light application of salve once a week seemed to hasten the healing.

Katniss usually could be found to have a spare set of hands during these visits. But lately they'd taken to avoiding each other. You could almost see the dark clouds above their eyes. _"_Brooding," her mother said in exasperation. "Prim, here's some advice: when you're in love, use your words when you're hurting. No one's any good at reading minds."

Made sense, Prim reasoned. Her mother had years of brooding experience and very little understanding to show for it. She felt bad as soon as she thought it, though it didn't make it any less true.

Her anger was getting the better of her. Gale grimaced as she washed his lash marks with a little too much force. "I'm sorry, Gale. They're not infected but they're a little raw. It'd be better if you could sleep on your stomach with your back exposed…"

He laughed and nodded. "I know, I know. Either I let 'em breathe or I freeze to death."

Prim shrugged. "They'll be better in a few weeks. Plus it'll get warmer. Eventually."

"Right in time for the mines to open again," he said darkly.

She didn't respond, not really knowing how to. She thought about Rory and how he'd be a miner in five year's time, too. She thought about her dad, whose memory was fading with each year.

"Aww, little duck. Don't get so down. It's not so bad," he said softly, craning his neck to give her a half-hearted little smile.

"It _is_ that bad and you know it," she corrected, cleaning the last jagged stripe on his lower back. "All they talk about in school is how superior coal technology is. It can't possibly be the most efficient source of energy! Why don't they build dams and…"

Gale's face broke into a true smile and he turned to face her. "Primrose Everdeen! Am I hearing you talk _resistance_?"

She squirmed, wondering how much she had given herself away. Most of her little speech was verbatim from Rory, whose stance on such matters she took to heart. "It just doesn't make sense, they way they keep us in the dark."

"Couldn't have said it better myself. Maybe not for long, though. People are getting restless." She nodded and turned to find the salve her mother had prepared shortly after Gale arrived. Another man had turned up with an infected cut and was getting treated in the living room. They could have some semblance of patient privacy in this house. On the counter next to their barren medicine cabinet was a salve, but not the one Prim had previously used on a Gale's back. Her stomach twisted and she turned back to Gale.

"I'll be right back." She tiptoed into the living room, where the man grimaced as her mother dabbed the wound with another ointment. Gale's. "Mom…"

"It's on the counter, Prim. You've done it before. I'm busy." Prim could see the viscous aloe vera that was of no use to the man's pus-filled wound. She could also see the exhaustion in her mother's eyes, her hands shaking as she almost absent-mindedly performed the task in front of her. She was starting to stare off again. Luckily, her charge was wracked with pain and didn't notice.

"But the salve I need…it's…" Contaminated with the man's infection is what it was. Bloodied and discolored bandages to the side of the crock told Prim that there was no way she'd reuse that same container on a back that was almost ready to be called healed. She seethed as she realized that she'd have to make Gale wait a little longer as she – hopefully, given their stocks – made another batch of the soothing ointment.

"Prim. Just do it."

She sighed and turned on her heel back into the kitchen. Angrily, she took a bandage, dipped it in the disinfecting mixture, and applied it to the angry marks on Gale's back.

The effect was immediate. Expecting relief, Gale yelped as the ointment burned into the wound. She took a step back and winced as she realized how childish she'd been. Her mother burst through the door and put two and two together when she looked at Gale's face, the cup of solution, and Prim's angry eyes. Prim shoved the cup into her mother's hands and stomped into the kitchen, stripped another aloe leaf into a sterile cup and mixing the other ingredients in until the familiar, soothing scent hit her nose. She could hear her mother's apologetic tone and Gale's low response and bit back her tears before she returned to the patient.

"I'm sorry," she said as she began applying the right salve. "I shouldn't have done it that way. But she wouldn't listen."

Gale laughed lightly. "A family trait. It's okay, Prim. I understand."

They didn't talk, but Prim seethed about how much no one else seemed to understand. Katniss, understandably, didn't talk about the Games, but didn't seem to acknowledge the effect they'd had on anyone else. She didn't seem to see that, after hours of Everdeens and Hawthornes watching the bloodbath together, Prim might actually know Gale as well as she did and could offer some insight to her current dilemma. But she didn't and she wouldn't.

Her mother, though trusting in many ways, failed in others and now Prim was making herself look like a fool because of her own mistake. It wasn't fair.

She sniffled as she pasted salve on the last of the lashes. "Now wait until it dries. I'm going to package the rest of this up so you can take it for later. I think we're out of all the ingredients until the next train comes, so this will have to do for now."

"That's just fine. Thanks, Prim."

"Do you want some tea? It's getting a little cold in here."

"You have peppermint?"

"No, but we have some catnip."

His eyes winced as she said it and she made a note to kick her sister for doing this to him, this man who was as dear as a brother to her. There was a weird little pause as they looked at each other. "That's just as close. I love catnip," he declared.

"I know," she replied. She figured she could blame her sister for the way he hung his head. _Oh Katniss, you had better have a good explanation for this! _She turned to start the tea water, and in a charitable effort, she popped her head in to ask her mother if their other patient needed anything. A toddy, if some whiskey could be spared. The man was going to spend the night on the couch, and her mother wouldn't mind some chamomile. Prim busied herself in the kitchen, prioritizing Gale's tea and working on the rest.

She heard the outside door open and close and the tromp of heavy boots. Katniss. Her voice mingled with Gale's and Prim gave them a few minutes as she went to the other room to help her mother prepare the couch for a makeshift bed. The man's wound looked much better, now that the right tincture had been applied, and was close to knocked out. He gratefully gulped the hot tea. Prim turned to leave when her mother caught her arm and spoke, averting her eyes at first.

"I'm sorry, Prim. I should have listened to you. Next time, speak up." She raised her eyes to meet hers and gave a sad little smile. "I'm not always right, you know."

Prim nodded and returned the smile. An apology was nice, but she still felt slighted. She re-entered the kitchen, where the two dark-haired hunters turned to greet her. Gale still sat on the table, still bare-chested though his back had long since dried, while her sister stood beside him. Katniss's hand was on Gale's shoulder in an affectionate sort of way, and he withdrew his own hand from the curve of her hip when Prim spotted it. The catnip tea had not been touched.

She blushed and felt badly for interrupting their moment_._ "I'm going to bed. Katniss, you might have to help him get his shirt on. Good night!" She ran up the stairs without another word.

* * *

Katniss's nightmares were liked clockwork. Prim had begun to wake right before the screams began. Her mother had instructed her not to intervene, that her sister's movements could be unpredictable and that she could only begin to control them when she fought them herself. So night after night they'd listen to the tortured cries and night after night they'd drift back off into sleep, only to repeat the cycle at least two more times before dawn.

Tonight Prim knew the demon before her sister did. The outbursts of "No, no, no!" together with the staccato "Ga! Ga! Ga!" were not hard to decipher. Prim tipetoed out the door and into the chaotic mess of her sister's room. She tried not to trip on the piles of beautiful clothes from the Capitol as she made her way towards the thrashing woman on the bed. "Nooo!" she wailed again, covering her face with her hands.

"Katniss. Katniss!" Prim shook her shoulder hard and jumped back as her sister's arm swiped out in defense. She sat up and blinked unresponsively until Prim clarified. "It's me, Sissy." The childhood nickname did the trick and her face relaxed from the dream world to this one. Prim climbed carefully into the bed. "You're all right. Gale's all right."

Katniss choked back a sob and let her head fall into her hands. "But he's not. He's not. They'll get him if I don't do what they say."

"I know." Prim rubbed circles on her back the way Katniss used to when she was younger and had nightmares about the Reaping.

"You do?" Katniss looked up and sniffled, wiping her nose on her nightshirt.

Prim nodded in the darkness, her eyes adjusting to the darkness. She could see the dark circles under Katniss's eyes, the puffiness of her eyelids. "If it was just a matter of choosing between who you loved more, you'd have done it by now."

She nodded and took some deep breaths. "Do I wake you every night?"

She shrugged. "We're getting used to it. Mom's just glad you don't sleepwalk."

An actual laugh escapes her sister's mouth and she sinks back into the pillows. "Can you stay? I sleep better if someone's in the bed with me."

Prim's mind raced as she pieced this information together, remembering another thing Haymitch had told her mother that night. About Katniss and Peeta, sleeping together on the train. "But not like that," Haymitch hastened after her mother gasped. "Kept the screaming away, I guess. But I'd have that talk right about now, if I were you."

It was none of her business, Prim thought, what Katniss had to do to stay sane. She snuggled next to her sister in the soft covers, thinking about her in the cave during the Games, shivering in her sleep next to Peeta. About the rage in Gale's eyes as he kicked over the empty heating oil cans outside their house after they had showed Peeta stroking her hair after she'd fallen asleep. Prim watched wordlessly from the porch as he collapsed into a squat, his head in his hands and his sorrow immeasurable.

She thought about the tender look her sister had for Gale tonight and the one he'd given her in return. Something was going to ruin whatever happiness they could find. She could tell. "Katniss?"

"Hmm?"

"I'm sorry things are so hard right now."

"Oh Prim." The voice is tiny and for the first time in months, she sounds like the sixteen-year-old she should be. Katniss fell asleep in less than a minute, her troubled eyes clenched in frustration but her breathing even and calmed. She was frustrated and beautiful and barely able to stay in charge of her own situation.

Loved by two men, threatened by their government, her body battered and bruised and her mind less and less her own. Prim thought about the slips of paper in the bowl at the Reaping. One bore her name. All of this because of her.

* * *

_Did you enjoy this? I enjoyed writing it. Let me know what you think, 'cause I just spent three hours writing when I could have prepared for finals instead. You're welcome!_

_**Next:**__ A little bit of Rory, a little bit of Prim, a little bit of firebombing_


	2. Trust Your Heart

02

Trust Your Heart

* * *

"Prim! Hey Prim!"

Rory Hawthorne was all legs when he ran, his thirteen-year-old body growing a rapid and often awkward rate. It was not quite noon and it was beginning to get warm that day in late June.

"My ma wants to know if you wanna come over for dinner tonight."

"Can't. We're having company."

Rory cocked his head, thinking through this declaration. They had been in this position before. When Katniss first entered the Arena for the 74th Hunger Games…

Well, had she known that she'd be front and center for the 75th, Katniss might have thought better about winning the 74th. It was two days into the Quarter Quell, and in case either Rory or Prim could forget it, District 12's Peacekeepers were projecting the Games onto the sides of buildings and on screens erected for the event. In the background, there were close-ups as Finnick Odair washed the scabs off his body. A few townspeople watched dispassionately from the town square, but this time around, most of those in District 12 kept a weary and unhopeful eye on the games.

During the 74th Hunger Games the year before, Gale and Rory took turns checking in on Katniss's family. It was common knowledge that Mrs. Everdeen's history of depression made her unreliable in terms of putting food on the table, but during that time only a year ago, Mrs. Everdeen kept a cool enough head. Prim did her part by broadening her customer base for her goat dairy and they got through. Still, Gale and Rory sat with them through the worst of the Games, when it looked like Katniss might not return to them.

"Company?" This time, Rory was clearly taken aback.

"The Mellarks are coming over. Well, just the men. We've been taking care of each other this time around," Prim explained. "You could come over if you wanted. Your whole family could. There's always enough food, and Mr. Mellark usually makes a special loaf of bread."

Rory was picking up the subtle cues of Hawthorne pride and shook his head. "Nah, I wouldn't want to interfere. Guess you've got bigger things to worry about than the rest of us."

"Rory!" she yelled after he turned his back, heading toward the Seam.

"What?" He turned and faced her. "Prim, you know better'n anyone that Gale can't stand to see them."

"Doesn't mean he has to be such a jerk about it. Besides, Peeta's brothers are nice."

"Easy to be nice when you're not underground all day," Rory mumbled.

Prim clenched her fists and stood her ground. Around Rory it was easier. "That's not fair." His regret was the blush that blossomed over his cheeks. "And since when are you Gale's messenger? If he has something to say, he can say it to my face."

"I'm sorry," he exclaimed, looking at the ground and running a hand through his hair. "Everyone's just so ornery lately. Easier not to push their buttons."

She felt a momentary pang of guilt as she realized she'd pushed her friend a little too far. She reached for his other hand and gave it a little squeeze. "I know. It's worse now for you, isn't it, with Gale in the mines?"

"He hates it down there," Rory whispered.

"Poor Gale."

"Poor Katniss and Peeta," Rory corrected as their gaze went towards the screen. On it, Katniss and Peeta were helping each other scrub their backs with the sand. The wind was enough to carry the sound away from the two teenagers, not that Prim minded any. "I should be the one comforting you," Rory pointed out. "She…she might not make it this time. She's fightin' to get Peeta out of there."

"And he's fighting for her," Prim replied. "At this rate, neither of them are coming back."

"I hope Johanna Mason doesn't kill them. Ma says she was vicious during her games. It'd be better if they just got struck by lightning or …"

Prim shivered and shook her head. "I can't talk about this anymore. Can you come over tonight or not?"

"I dunno. I'll ask Ma."

"Good." She leaned up to peck him on the cheek. "It'd mean a lot to me if you did."

* * *

Prim was setting the table later that evening when there was a curt knock at the back door. It opened a moment later and Mr. Mellark's kind voice rang out. "Anyone home?"

Mrs. Everdeen appeared in a rush from behind Prim. "Come on in! Supper's nearly ready." The two adults shared a friendly embrace, greeting each other with genuine smiles.

Prim frowned for a moment, wondering at their good mood considering it all. Rory's comment about not if but _how_ Katniss was going to die in the Quarter Quell had left her feeling uneasy all day. During the 74th Hunger Games, Prim had clung to the hope of her sister reigning triumphant and was not disappointed. This time, just a year later, she was wondering how they'd really cope without her.

How could her mother gloss over this? Even right now, there was Peeta on the television set in the dining room. There was a TV in every room of the houses in the Victors Village. Usually they sat draped, because there was nothing to watch, but during the Hunger Games the televisions filled the house with an unnatural glow. Mrs. Everdeen had muted the set since the incident with the jabberjays the day before. Katniss and Peeta's fate seemed unmistakable hour by hour, but there was her mother and Peeta's father, smiling for all to see.

"We brought pumpernickel rolls for the meal ." Gram Mellark was a good copy of his mother, though no one much held that against him. At twenty-four, he stood to take over the family business as far as the books were concerned. He had a good head for business but less a talent for baking.

"And sticky buns for after!" He tugged on one of Prim's braids. "Since you liked them so much last time." The middle Mellark son, nineteen year old Rye, had no interest in any aspect of the family business, and instead worked at the mercantile. The merchant had lost a son in the 66th Hunger Games and had taken Rye on as a partner after he finished school the year before. Rye was as friendly as Peeta but twice as talkative.

Prim couldn't help but to giggle as he pressed the bags into her hands. Gram came over and gave her a kiss on the top of her head. "Doing all right, Primrose?" he asked softly, in his kind voice. Her eyes stinged with tears and she nodded imperceptibly. "They're still with us. Don't lose hope just yet." He rose to embrace Prim's mother in a similar fashion.

"Thank you so much for coming over," Mrs. Everdeen said as she smoothed out the skirt of her dress. Her eyes settled on the screen behind Rye. The Tributes were laying out an impressive feast for themselves. Seeing her daughter of danger, she let herself relax. "It's just so much easier to get through it together."

"It's our pleasure," Mr. Mellark assured her. "May we help you get…"

A rapid knock at the door interrupted him. Prim knew who it was before Gram even got to the door. Gale's low voice carried from the threshold.

"Oh!" Prim exclaimed. "I'm sorry, Mom. I forgot that I invited Rory and his family."

By this time, Gale had stepped in. His hair was damp and his fingertips were pink but clean. He'd just gotten off work. "Don't worry. We're not staying long." Rory stood behind him, the look on his face largely unreadable. "I just remembered that I promised to gather herbs for you over the weekend and didn't get to it."

"I _am_ low," Mrs. Everdeen admitted. "But you've got work, Gale."

"We'll go in the morning," Rory supplied. "Before the mines open."

"Is that safe?" Gram interjected. "I figured after you got hurt you'd steer clear the woods. What with all the Peacekeepers…"

"Still need to eat. Anyways, we got an entrance they don't much mind," Gale replied, not meeting the eyes of the other men. Instead, he stared past at the television set where Katniss, her hair disheveled but illuminated in the sunset of the Arena, laughingly accept a pearl that Peeta handed her. He caught himself, shook his head and cleared his throat. "Besides, few Peacekeepers get up before the sun. You should know that."

"We-ell," Mrs. Everdeen thought out loud. "That still doesn't give you much time. I could use bee balm…"

"How much?"

"As much as you can spare without ruining the plants. We really ought to uproot these and dig up the lawn here…"

"We'll have to wait for Katniss to get back if you want a garden," Prim said suddenly. "It's her house. The Capitol won't make changes without her approval first." Six pairs of eyes settled on her and she clapped a hand over her mouth when she realized her mistake.

Mrs. Everdeen sank to a chair. "I never thought that through," she said softly. "What is the procedure if a Victor dies in subsequent Games? Back to the Seam with us, I guess."

Gale's eyes flashed their anger but Prim could see his jaw tense as he worked through it. He walked over to the counter and reached for a small pad of paper and a pen. "Don't worry about that just now. Write down what your patients need and we'll get them to you tomorrow. Rory'll learn his plants yet. Then we can get out of your way tonight. Didn't mean to interrupt the party."

"Bee balm, yarrow, and purple loosestrife. Focus on those and we should be able to make it to the weekend." Mrs Everdeen listed as Gale wrote. "Now sit. You're eating with us tonight."

"But…"

"Don't talk back to your aunt, Gale." There was a tense moment for a second until the two caught each other's eye and snickered. Rory sighed in relief, which coincided with a savory smells coming from the tureen of soup Mr. Mellark had just brought from the kitchen. They took their seats while Prim fetched two more place settings and Rye two more chairs. Mr. Mellark stood to serve them.

"Growing children first," he said with a smile, handing Rory and Prim their bowls. "Then ladies." Mrs. Everdeen positively beamed over the bowl as he handed it to her. "Smells good, Camille."

"Cream of onion soup with garlic scapes with greens. Had a little bit of rabbit leftover, for flavor," she replied. "A nice, summer soup."

Mr. Mellark finished serving to the men and emptied the pot for himself last. "Not a drop to waste! Now that's efficient." Rye passed out the bread and there was an appreciative quiet as they dug in. Prim ripped up her roll into her soup, coating the bread with the creamy broth. Mr. Mellark chuckled at her from across the table. Prim blushed fiercely and looked down at her bowl.

"I don't mean to tease, Primrose. It's just that Peeta used to do that same."

"Only he was a lot younger than you when he did," Rye added with a mouthful of soup. Swallowing, he added, "Used to drive our mother nuts."

"All goes down the same, I guess," Gram conceded. "But it never took much to set her off anyway."

An amused smirk formed around Gale's mouth. "That why she took a pass at dinner tonight?"

The Mellark men looked up from their bowls, each with a separate pained expression. "Don't start, Gale," Mrs. Everdeen pleaded. "There's enough hurt here already."

To his credit, Gale's cheeks flushed slightly and he began to mumble an apology.

"No, no," Mr. Mellark said. "It's all right. Not surprising, really. My wife's dealing with an old wound, so to speak. She lost…well, she lost her first love to the Games when we were teenagers."

Gram and Rye averted their eyes while everyone else's turned to Mr. Mellark to continue. "There was nothing she could do about it, except move on. So she tried. Got married, started a family, helped me really grow our business. I owe her a great deal."

Gale shrugged. "She's not the only one who lost someone to the Games. Hell, here in 12, that's damn near everyone."

Mr. Mellark smiled ruefully. "My family could proudly say that they had never had a family member reaped. We weren't even in the running back in District Ten."

"What?" Rory's curiosity got the better of his manners, but Mr. Mellark only smiled.

"I suppose you didn't know that, did you? Well, about twenty years after the Dark Days, there was a bad flu pandemic in Twelve. Took out most of the merchant class and quite a bit of those who mined, too. So the Capitol had a Redistribution. Happens more in some of the larger districts, but it's easier to do there since their borders are so much larger. Workers from Eleven and Seven were brought in to replace those miners lost, and a few families from Ten to cover the specialized classes. That's where the fair hair comes from."

Prim turned to her mother. "Like us? Are we from Ten, too?"

Mrs. Everdeen pursed her lips. "I suppose so. Your grandfather didn't discuss the past much."

Mr. Mellark continued. "And of course, they weren't keen to continue this dangerous business of mixing districts, so they brought in enough people that the district would be over its carrying capacity in time."

"In time?"

Mr. Mellark met Gale's disbelieving stare with an even expression. He popped a piece of bread into his mouth. Around chews, he said, "Wouldn't you agree it worked? Anyway, Peeta was the first one in our family, which I'm told was quite extensive back in Ten, to be Reaped. That we know of, anyway.

"For my wife, this was the thing she feared the worst. I mean, for any parent it's…it's hell to watch them go. But for it to happen to her not just once, but three times now?" He shook his head sadly. "She's not in a good place."

"Brod, is she taking the medicine I…"

"No, she won't touch it." He looked up at Mrs. Everdeen with a sad smile. "I've tried, trust me. She's no longer interested." The table was quiet for a moment.

"Does Peeta know that story?" Prim's voice rang clearly throughout the room. Mrs. Everdeen got up to light the kerosene lamp – the electricity had been spotty lately, even in the Victor's Village—and Prim continued to clarify. "Last year, when she said that Katniss had a better chance to win the Games over him. He just sounded so sad when he told Katniss about it, during the Games. If he knew…"

"Oh, he knows, all right," Gram scoffed. "And that's a touching story, Dad, but it's a little hard to feel sorry for her when she won't even acknowledge you until you're past eighteen ."

"No kidding," Gale breathed, leaning back in his chair. "I knew she was no picnic, but that's…" Gale paused before continuing, debating his word choices. "I am sorry to hear that."

Mr. Mellark nodded his thanks and the adults sat in silence a little bit pushed the plate of sticky buns over to Rory, who'd been eyeing them this entire time. He reached out to grab one, then pulled his hand back. "I'd think I'd like to take it home to Vick and Posy, please."

"Take mine," Rye offered. "I only had two before I got here."

"And I'm not hungry anymore," Gram added. "Say, does your mother still do washing? We've got some aprons and towels that need bleaching."

"She'd be happy for the work," Gale affirmed, taking a roll as it was passed to him. "What with Haymitch gone, she's only been checking his house once a week."

"Why bother bleaching the aprons?" Rory pondered aloud as the adults shuffled around him, sticky bun in hand. "Wouldn't you want the flour to show up against something darker?"

"The illusion of clean is important in food service," Gram winked. He and Rye rose to clear the table, despite Mrs. Everdeen's protestations. She followed them into the kitchen where the sound of the water running could be heard over laughter.

Mr. Mellark pulled out a pipe and stuffed it, lighting the tobacco inside. Prim, still seated at the table, noticed that the Hawthorne boys turned up their nose at the pipe - smoking was a Merchant thing. Miners dealt with enough smoke in their lives. If he noticed the way Rory's nose crinkled, Mr. Mellark said nothing. Instead he was looking at the boy with a thoughtful expression. "With Peeta gone, I could use an extra set of hands around the place. Would that be something you'd like during your summer break, Rory? A few hours a week, half a coin per hour. It'd be pretty early in the day, so I'll need an early riser."

Rory's cheeks blushed red as Mrs. Everdeen returned from the kitchen and pressed a package of sticky buns in his hands. "I...I could do that. That'd be nice," he stammered, too pleased to say much else.

Gale stood behind Rory, grasping him by his shoulders playfully. "Not bad for your first job, champ!" To Mr. Mellark he said, "I could have him to you right before the shift opens tomorrow morning, if that works."

Mr. Mellark shook his head. "Day after, if you could. And we'll send the washing home with him for your mother, too."

Gale nodded, rounding the table to shake the deal with the baker. Rory leaped up to do the same, and found his voice. "Thank you for the opportunity, Mr. Mellark. I won't let you down." The older man smiled in return.

"Going already, Gale?" Mrs. Everdeen called from the kitchen. She strode out to say good-bye, untying her apron as she walked.

He shrugged. "I'd stay longer, but I'm beat. They're doubling our quota these next few weeks."

Increased coal quotas were a suspicious thing in Twelve. It meant the Capitol was up to something. Mr. Mellark grunted from his pipe while Mrs. Everdeen's eyes clouded. "You be careful down there," she said quietly.

"Don't you worry about me," he replied, though both of their eyes drifted towards the television set, where Katniss and Peeta sat hand-in-hand on the beach. They look exhausted and neither spoke. Gale's gaze hardened as he looked back at Katniss's mother. "We'll see around."

"Good-bye!" Prim called to Rory, and a chorus of greetings followed the Hawthorne boys out the door.

"We should get going, too," Rye announced. "It's getting late."

"I'll be along in a bit, boys," his father called. "Leave the back door unlocked, if you could."

The group said their good-byes and shuffled out the door, leaving Prim with her mother and the baker in their dining room. It suddenly felt cavernous without the three tall young men and Rory's lanky frame to fill it. Prim got up to unmute the television set when her mother interrupted.

"Prim, what are you doing?"

Prim froze and turned to her, confused by her tone. "It's...it's almost nine o'clock. They'll do a recap then. I want to hear what's going on." On the screen, the cameras panned to the subdued crowds in the Capitol. An announcer went over popular betting prices in the city's gambling parlors. Prim stood fixed to her spot next to the TV.

Mrs. Everdeen's mouth was a thin, pursed line. This time, their strategy when watching the Games was do it as little as possible. They had stopped going out in public during busy hours because often, their answers to what they thought of the progress Katniss or Peeta were making was "I don't know." No Peacekeepers had come to enforce their viewing. Still, watching the recap was a quick way of making up for lost time.

"I want to make sure she's all right," Prim explained slowly. She turned to Mr. Mellark. "Don't you want to see if Peeta's okay?"

The adults were silent for a moment. The baker turned his head wordlessly toward her mother, who blinked and looked back at Prim. "I think it's bedtime, Prim."

Prim's cheek blazed in fury. She'd been thirteen for a month, far too old to suffer the indignation of being told when to go to bed. She looked at her mother and the baker and recalled their earlier stories that night and something clicked inside her, understanding why she was suddenly subject to this. She looked down at the TV set, her sister's face genuinely distraught with some conflicted emotion, and she wanted nothing more than for Katniss to be there _right now. _

Prim turned to march up the stairs. She didn't look back and didn't stop until she got to her own bedroom and slammed the door.

* * *

She didn't know how long she spent crying into her pillows, but the lingering summer twilight was gone once she made up her mind. She eased the screen from her fancy Victor's Village window and used the trellis to feel her way down to the ground. The moon was a few days past full and provided sufficient light to get her to the Seam. From there she could easily navigate her way through the yards and alleys until she got to the rickety house whose windows were filled with a faint but glowing, warm light. She knocked lightly, and a moment later a weary Hazelle answered the door.

"Primrose," she yawned, her eyes increasing with worry as she registered the time of day. "Is everything alright?"

"Everything's fine," Prim lied. "I was just wondering if I could watch the Games from here. Our TV's acting up and I don't want to wake my mother."

The face Hazelle made and tried to hide told Prim that she knew, but that wasn't a help. She felt stupid for not seeing what had been there all along. The kindness of the baker. The extra sweets. The happiness her mother seemed to possess despite her oldest daughter's impending death.

Hazelle led her to where their small television set glowed. As cousins of a Victor and Tribute, the Hawthornes had the privilege of a back-up generator to power their television when the electricity failed for the night. Like the TVs in Prim's house in the Victor's Village, you could never shut it off during the Games. What a gift the Quarter Quell had been to them.

Gale lay out on their old couch on his stomach, half-asleep and dressed in a faded pair of pants. He raised his head briefly when Prim entered the room. Despite the only illumination being the weak light of the TV, she could see the faint scars on his back.

Rory sat on the floor in his pajamas with his back to the couch for support. It looked like he'd been whittling a chain, but now seemed engrossed in the Quarter Quell. Hazelle eased herself into a rocking chair and picked up her knitting. On the screen, the Victors in the Arena eased into the night after another harrowing day.

"Beetee's up to something," Rory explained as Prim sat next to him on the floor. "But we can't figure out what. He mumbles to himself and the microphones can't pick up on it."

"No one died?"

"Not today. They got to eat, though. They just ate a lot of seafood. District 4 sent rolls again."

District 12 hadn't even bothered to send a thing this time around. The entire thing just seemed so bizarre.

Prim watched for a while, then dozed off. Gale's deep breaths from the couch behind her indicated that he'd fallen asleep. She was vaguely aware of Rory's arm around her and was glad for the warmth. The late June night had been foggy and cooler than usual. The clicking of Hazelle's knitting needles slowed and soon the only noise the room held were the voices from the Arena.

"Prim, Prim!" Rory nudged her awake and stared at the screen. "Johanna Mason just knifed Katniss!"

Her cry roused Gale and they watched as Katniss faked dead for Brutus and Enobaria and tried to piece together what she needed to do next. The camera would cut to Peeta, whose terrified eyes failed to find her. Gale sat up, fully awake, and shook his head. "She's got a concussion. She shouldn't be moving around so much."

Hazelle's eyes fluttered open as she heard the commotion coming from her sons and Prim. "Oh no," was all she said.

Rory cocked his head, perplexed. "Wait, did Johanna rip her tracker out? And Beetee's?"

"And Finnick's," Gale confirmed when the camera panned to Finnick, who also had a nasty gash on his left arm. "Huh. That's..."

Before he could finish, Katniss knotted the wire the man from District 3 had given her to her arrow, and looked toward the sky. She stood, revealing her location, which made Gale and Hazelle shout "No!" so loudly that Prim jumped from her place on the floor.

On the screen, Katniss notched the arrow, pulled back and let it fly. It seemed to go on into the darkness towards nothing, but as quickly as the screen filled with light, it went dark. The TV went black and they found themselves in total darkness, adjusting to the moonlight. The clock struck twelve.

Gale flicked on a flashlight and found a kerosene lamp and lit it. Hazelle had gone to the porch to peer outside. A number of neighbors had done the same, and there was a gentle murmur of voices in the foggy night.

"Hey!" A voice rang out, loud and strong. Someone shushed him, but he ignored it. "Thread's gone! There's not a Peacekeeper in this part of town."

Inside, Gale strode quickly to one of the bedrooms and came out tucking in his miner's shirt into his work pants, adjusting the suspenders over his broad shoulders. He plunked his helmet on his head and rushed onto the porch. He grasped his mother by the arm. "Get dressed. Get the kids dressed. Something's not right."

"Gale, where are you going?" Hazelle called after him as he headed into the misty night.

"Town," he called. "They ought to be warned."

"I'm coming with," Prim yelled out, running after him.

"Stay here, Prim."

She caught up to him, already out-of-breath. "But Mother..."

"Prim." He took her by the shoulders and looked into her blue eyes. "I swore to your sister I'd protect you."

The thought of her sister's shot-in-the-dark and the blank screen that followed filled Prim's heart in terror. She'd been thinking about this reality all day. There wasn't a hope that Katniss was still alive, and the thought made her feel very small. "I'll get your mom, I promise. But first I gotta make sure you're safe, little duck. Go back and help my mother with Posy. Please?"

Prim didn't move for a second, processing this new reality.

"Prim. Please."

"Okay," she said. "But you need to hurry."

* * *

Gale broke into a run once he passed the road that led to the Victor's Village. In his mind he tried to connect the power outage and Katniss's last move in the arena. He passed the large outdoor screen where earlier yesterday, his brother and Prim had watched Peeta hand Katniss a locket.

Rory had updated him about that the minute he got home. He knew what was inside. His mind wandered back to that image of her...holding Peeta's hand.

He couldn't think about that now. What he was thinking about was how many times he'd seen Mrs. Everdeen sneak out the back of the bakery at the crack of dawn when he would deliver baskets of clean laundry for his mother elsewhere in town before heading down the mines. He hadn't known about the reason for the baker's wife's malaise until this evening, but it was well-known that she hadn't left the house since Peeta had left.

In Gale's mind, using the Victor's Village seemed a little less conspicuous, but no one was asking him.

He had just made his way over the little hill that separated Seam from Town when he heard the high-pitched whistle. It wasn't the shift whistle that ordered his life from dawn till dusk. It was a ringing in his ears that seamlessly dropped in pitch. He slowed down and strained to see through the fog towards the night sky.

The world around him filled with a bright, white light and before he knew it, a violent thrust tossed him against the ground and his ears thudded from the boom that followed. As he instinctively curled into a ball, he was grateful he'd worn his helmet as debris rained around him. Soon it cleared and he coughed, clicking on the light of his helmet to see what had blown up.

Through the smoke and fog, now thickly mixed, he could just make out the hole in the ground where the bakery had been. A fire blazed within the pile of ruined brick and board.

A total loss. He couldn't think about the people who'd been inside without realizing there would be others. He couldn't think about the bomb he'd just seen without assuming there would be others.

He yelled like he'd never yelled before. "Get out! We're being attacked!"

He ran through the streets pounding on doors, hoping those in the Seam would figure out what was about to happen. Hadn't they all seen the Hob go up? He was almost to the Mayor's house when the whine in the air appeared again.

Another flash of light and he was on the ground again, his mouth full of dirt and a dull ache in his shoulder.

A pair of arms lifted him to his feet and a group of wide-eyed merchants hastened away from their buildings, their footsteps illuminated by the flashes from other bombs going off. Screams and firebombs fill the air with an unnatural din. Through the smoke and fog they stumbled ahead and he could vaguely make out the group of helmet lights in front of him and the huddled mass of people from the Seam appeared, Thom leading the way.

"Bristel's bringing up the rear," Thom shouted in his ear over the noise and yells. "And don't worry, your ma and the kids are here, too." The ground rumbled with each hit and more buildings around them seemed to be catching fire, pockets of coal dusting adding to the explosions that reverberated through their bodies.

"We need to get to the Meadow," Gale yelled back, louder so they could hear him. "There's less coal dust there, plus it's easy access to the woods."

Thom looked around. "We might need to go back, in case of stragglers."

Gale grimaced, thinking of what it would be to get caught in this. "How many we got?"

Thom shrugged. "Seven hundred? Hard to see with the fog. We mighta missed some. You?"

"Not even a hundred," he guessed. "They targeted the buildings. Bakery and the Mayor's got direct hits."

Thom shook his head and coughed. "We've got to move. If the fire don't kill us, the air will."

* * *

Twelve hours later, Gale finally sat down again. They were near the lake that Katniss had showed him months ago, when he told her he loved her. This time, they stuck to the trees and the dilapidated old houses to avoid being seen from the air. A woman strode toward him with the haunted look so many wore, himself included. Like everyone else, she was covered in soot and filthy. It wasn't until she got within a foot of him that he let out an exhale he didn't know he'd been keeping in.

"That was a brave thing you did," Mrs. Everdeen said as she checked the extent of his shoulder injury. He winced as she tested his rotation. "About a hundred made it out of Town. Most were women and children." He grunted as she checked his reflexes. "You're badly bruised, but I can't feel a break. Might have torn a tendon, but best I not mess with that til you can rest some."

"Wasn't brave," he mumbled.

"Oh no?" she countered. "Seems to me..."

"I thought you were there last night," he interrupted. "When Prim showed up at the house, I thought she'd gotten lonely with you gone or something. My heart damn near stopped when I saw the bakery go up."

Mrs. Everdeen's hands stopped their examination as he laid it out in front of her.

"It wasn't brave, or nice, or anything like that. I told Prim I'd find you. So I went. And then I thought you'd died."

She ripped a ribbon of cloth from a shirt of the one of the deceased. They'd lost a few to smoke inhalation and severe burns and it didn't make sense to anyone to let what little had gotten beyond the fence go to waste. Tying it expertly, she said curtly, "Don't overextend it. Give it a couple days and it might take care of itself. Otherwise..." She brushed a few stray tears from her eyes and let her thoughts go with it. "I'm sorry to have worried you."

"You found Prim, right?"

"I saw her with your mother, but I was looking for..." Her voice trailed off as she felt Gale's stare pierce her.

"Go and tell your daughter you're alive," he said through clenched teeth. "And then set up a medic station. Do that and I'll pretend it was heroic that I ran to Town to tell everyone we were in trouble."

* * *

Prim listened to the orders her mother gave her at the makeshift medical tent, but she couldn't look her in the eye. It seemed impossible, two days after they had seen their home go up in flames, that anything else could matter, but suddenly Prim understood what could make her sister distrust her mother so.

Finally, later that evening on the second day, Mrs. Everdeen sat next to her. They weren't lighting fires for fear of being caught and instead huddled next to each other for warmth against tree trunks.

"I don't blame you for being mad."

"I'm sick of people treating me like I'm nothing but a baby. You could have at least told me. What was I going to do, tell the baker's wife?"

Mrs. Everdeen hung her head. "I didn't go looking for it, Prim. It just happened."

"That's not what I'm mad about."

They sat in silence for a few minutes. Around them, the tranquil sound of frogs accompanied the rolling fog and increasing darkness. It would be another chilly night, but at least it wouldn't rain.

Mrs. Everdeen's hand had found the end of her daughter's braid. She fingered it absently as she spoke. "You know, you act quite a bit older than thirteen. I forget that sometimes. Katniss wasn't nearly as mature as you when she was thirteen, and I guess you got me there. I suppose I did trust her a little more, whether she deserved it or not."

"That's not true. She was off hunting and taking care of us when she was thirteen."

"You were taking care of Lady and owning a business at eleven, Primrose." The name of her beloved goat caused Prim's eyes to prick with tears, but she blinked through them as her mother continued. "For all her strength and responsibility, Katniss was not nearly as grown-up at thirteen as you are now. There were still things I shielded her from." Mrs. Everdeen let out one half-hearted laugh. "Come to think of it, despite what's happened in the past year, I wouldn't say your sister's any more mature than you are now!"

Despite herself, Prim laughed between her tears. "That's a horrible thing to say, Mother. After all she went through at the end?"

Mrs. Everdeen's face became thoughtful. "Call me crazy, Prim, but I don't think she's dead."

"Mother. The screen went blank after she shot..."

"I know. I've heard. But a mother knows." She looked to her youngest and put her arm around her. "I'm sorry I didn't tell you about...about it all." Her chest shook for a moment as she composed herself. "I should have and I should have known you'd understand. It was wrong of me, after how much I trusted you. Could you forgive me?"

Prim didn't answer right away. She thought of the possibility of Katniss being alive and how much her sister would need both of them if she was. It wouldn't do much good if she couldn't get along with her mother.

But Prim knew that there had been a change in her relationship with her mother. That unconditional trust they'd had was gone. But did she still love her? Could she?

"I forgive you, Mother." Mrs. Everdeen laid a kiss on her head. Prim leaned into her for warmth and drifted off to sleep.

* * *

A/N: Thanks for the reviews! I have some comments about the way I chose to characterize the Mellarks over at my tumblr. Stop by if you'd like! .com


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